


It Is You That Is Near

by bertie456 (bertee)



Series: Bones: You're Lovely to Me [12]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-01
Updated: 2008-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertie456





	It Is You That Is Near

For Jack Hodgins, and for squints the world over, fieldwork was like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

This was partly because it was exciting, different and gave you incredible stories to tell your colleagues on your return, but also, like the proverbial pot, it was widely acknowledged to be a myth. For years, Hodgins was firm in his belief that the promise of fieldwork was concocted by duplicitous FBI agents to keep the squints motivated in pursuit of an unattainable dream.

However, this theory had been abruptly quashed at the foundation of the partnership between Dr Temperance Brennan and Agent Seeley Booth. The lab had been abuzz for days at the news that Dr Brennan, Queen of Squintville, was working out in the field with a bonafide, gun-equipped FBI agent, and this revelation had created new hope in all of them of one day achieving the same goal, preferably with a gun and/or an attractive Special Agent of their own.

But over the years, this dream had failed to materialise for Hodgins. True, he'd been out in the field occasionally, but this was mostly to collect bugs, slime or particulates, and very rarely involved catching bad guys. The one time he'd actually witnessed the catching of the bad guy was when Booth had been too injured to put on a bulletproof vest, so had let him come along, thus reducing his part in the proceedings to that of potential human shield.

It was this desire to be more than just an onlooker that made him leap at the chance to accompany Booth on an arrest. Brennan was away on a contract-mandated book tour in Seattle, and the agent had obtained a warrant to search the house of a suspect for the poison used to kill the latest body that had come into the lab. Hodgins had gladly volunteered to come along to identify the poison from the evidence found at the house, fully aware that once he found it, Booth would then arrest the guy and he could return to the lab with enough boasting material to last till he was forty.

At least, that was the plan.

When they'd arrived at the suspect's house, everything had appeared normal and above board. Booth had stayed in the lounge, keeping the man under surveillance, while Hodgins had gone into the kitchen to check the cupboards for the lethal powder. However, there was a lot more in the kitchen than poison, and he'd soon found himself staring down the barrels of the guns of the suspect's three buddies, who had apparently all had a hand in the death of the man who'd intended to turn them over to the police.

This knowledge did little to help Hodgins, as he'd then been dragged back out into the lounge and held at gunpoint until Booth surrendered his weapons. Despite vocal threats from the agent and worried objections from the entomologist, one thing had inevitably led to another, with the result that Hodgins now found himself locked in a basement, with his hands bound to Booth's behind their backs, while the killers made their escape to sunny Mexico.

He looked up as he heard the front door slam shut, followed by the sound of two engines starting, with the groan from Booth informing him that they'd taken the SUV as well as their own car. Sighing, he looked aound the dimly-lit basement for some way out of their predicament, but was jolted out of his thoughts by a sharp pain in his wrists as Booth tugged hard on the tape that held them.

"Ow," he said pointedly, and couldn't help but smirk at the agent's muffled retort.

Booth's protests at their treatment had been louder than Hodgins', and when the men had finished binding their hands, they'd stuck a strip of tape over his mouth, laughing at his enforced silence. Despite his fleeting amusement at this development, Hodgins now realised that Booth had no way of giving him any instructions on methods of escape.

Ever hopeful, he asked nonetheless, "So what do we do now?"

Booth's answer was a somewhat melodramatic sigh and another sharp tug on their bonds.

Hodgins nodded. "Right, we cut the tape off." He paused for thought. "How exactly are we supposed to cut the tape off without using our hands? Or a knife?"

Hearing Booth's unintelligible attempt at an explanation and safe in the knowledge that he had no gun with which to shoot him, the entomologist interrupted, "Dude, you know I can't understand a word that you're saying, right?"

Despite his lack of guns, Booth managed to jab an elbow hard into Hodgins' back.

Wincing, he looked round, deciding that he would have to come up with his own plan of escape. He smiled to himself at the thought, knowing that he would attain an as yet unheard of level of respect at the lab when it became widely known that he single-handedly rescued a federal agent from certain death. Obviously his edited version of the scenario would leave out the fact that he had been captured too, and that death wasn't so much "certain" as "easily avoidable when someone came looking for them and unlocked the basement."

Flushed with the mere thought of success, Hodgins' eyes lit up when he saw a metal nail protruding from a pillar, where someone had misjudged their hammering and left the sharp end pointing out towards the center of the room. Happily, he announced, "I know what we need to do. We just have to stand up and go over to that nail and-"

He was cut off by a shout of pained objection from Booth. Craning his neck, Hodgins looked behind him to see that, while he had stood up in his enthusiasm, the agent hadn't managed to follow, resulting in his arms being twisted at an excruciating angle as Hodgins had tried to move towards the post.

Eyes widening, the entomologist quickly crouched back down next to his friend, who let out a relieved sigh as the pressure on his shoulders was lessened. Feeling slightly guilty, he apologised, reminding himself that Booth was not psychic and so couldn't possibly know to move at exactly the same time as him. "Sorry, man."

Booth muttered something that sounded remarkably like "You will be."

Attributing the threat to the distortion of the gag, Hodgins tried again, "We need to stand up." Thinking about what just happened, he amended, "And you probably realised that already."

He didn't know it was possibly to convey sarcasm through duct tape, but somehow Booth managed it.

"Hey, just trying not to break your arms here," he said defensively, feeling aggrieved that the agent was in a worse situation than he was and yet was still mocking him. "Now can you stand, or do you need me to help you up?"

Booth's reply could've been either from all he could make out, but the agent manoeuvred himself to a crouching position while Hodgins wobbily tried to stay upright. Satisfied that they were both ready to stand, he instructed, "Okay, stand up on three. One, two-"

Before he reached three, Booth had pushed himself to his feet, dragging Hodgins behind him and causing a similar pain to rocket through the his shoulders also at the temporarily awkward angle. Whimpering slightly, he rightened himself, suddenly feeling more guilty about the pain he inadvertently inflicted on the agent earlier and praying that Booth wouldn't seek further retribution later.

Seeing that they were both upright, he started to walk over to the nail in front of him, informing Booth, "We can use the nail to slice through the tape. Its point looks sharp enough to puncture a few layers of tape, so if we start at the edge and work downward, it should free us."

Booth stumbled as he was dragged backwards across the room, his feet colliding with Hodgins' ankles as he struggled to keep his footing. He'd just about got his stride when the shorter man stopped abruptly, causing Booth's back and arms to bash heavily against him.

Hodgins let out a surprised yelp as Booth's bound hands bumped hard against his rear, and poked him with his elbows in return. "Not cool, man. Keep your hands to yourself."

Booth shoved him back with greater ferocity, his angry grunt making his feelings about the accusation crystal clear.

Not wanting to get into a wrestling match with a man who was taller, stronger and trained in more ways to kill people than he was, Jack decided to let it go, instead turning his attention back to the pillar and the helpful nail. "Okay, turn ninety degrees counter-clockwise." They did. "Now, lift your hands to the left as far as they'll go." Booth complied and Hodgins craned his neck to see what they needed to do. "Now, if we both push hard, the nail should pierce the top edge of the tape and make it easier to tear. Ready?" He made a muffled noise of agreement and together they pushed their bonds against the protuding point.

Unfortunately, the tape was stronger than expected. Booth let out a cry of pain as it slid over the point, causing the nail to embed itself in his arm. He pulled away with a wince and Hodgins turned to see a thin stream of blood coursing down his arm. "When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?"

The irritated reply informed him that tetanus was the least of his worries right now.

Cowed into silence by his mistake, Hodgins kept his mouth shut as Booth lifted their arms, lining the center of the tape up with the nail before pushing firmly. There was a slight pop as the nail penetrated the silver duct tape and Hodgins felt Booth tug firmly upwards. He debated protesting that this movement was very uncomfortable for him, but decided against it when he felt cool air on the inside of his wrists as the restraints became loose.

With sheer desperation, they pulled gratefully away from each other, both wincing as the tape was ripped unceremoniously off their wrists. Rubbing his raw skin, Hodgins turned to see Booth pull his gag off, throwing it to the floor as he muttered, angrily, "Why the hell did they gag me and not you?"

A smug smile playing on his lips, Hodgins offered, "Do you really want me to answer that? 'Cause that's just too easy..."

Booth glared at him. "Know what? You really can't judge. You nearly dislocated my shoulder, you jabbed a nail into my arm-"

"Hey, that was a joint effort," he protested. "You played an active part in that nail jabbing, so don't even think about arresting me for assault."

"Glad to see that slap they gave you didn't affect your paranoia at all," Booth shot back, sarcastically, as he tried to stem the blood flow from his arm.

"Slap?" he repeated indignantly, remembering the hard punch to the head he'd received from the fleeing killers. "No, a slap is something your girlfriend gives you when she catches you checking out her sister. That was a full-on right hook."

Booth smirked, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't know Angela had a sister."

Feeling his anger ebb slightly, Hodgins shrugged, "Eh, sister, boss, hairdresser, best friend from college; it's all the same."

Wrapping his tie round his injury, Booth smiled to himself in knowing agreement. Seeing this as a sign of a truce, Hodgins asked casually, "You alright? They gave you a few slaps too."

Finished with his makeshift bandage, Booth looked over at him with a slight nod. "I'm fine." He scanned the basement as he said with determination, "But I'd be a whole lot better if we could get out of here and stop those guys running off to Mexico City with my wheels."

Hodgins opened his mouth to point out that the traditional definition of "fine" did not include a black eye and a split lip, but decided against it as he watched Booth jog up the steps to try to force the door open, only to jog back down again when it didn't budge. Clearing his throat, he spoke up, "Um, not wanting to state the obvious, but the window?"

Booth looked up towards the thin window standing at least eight feet above floor level. "Not wanting to state the obvious," he mimicked, mockingly, "But in case you hadn't noticed, we're not that tall, and I don't see anything to stand on."

"I do," he answered without thinking. Booth looked at him quizzically, and Hodgins returned the stare pointedly.

Getting his gist, Booth shook his head, "Hell, no. You are not climbing onto my shoulders. That is so not going to happen."

"Well, you can't exactly climb on mine," he retorted, smirking slightly. Booth glared at him, and he shrugged, "Is it my fault I'm shorter than you?"

"Yes."

"What? No, it's not!"

"Well it's your fault that you're here instead of Bones," Booth stated petulantly.

Hodgins raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so you'd let her climb on your shoulders but not me?"

"Yes," Booth said, surprised there was any doubt in the matter.

Not wishing to begin a conversation about the similarities between him and Dr Brennan, Hodgins decided to go with the forceful approach, reassuring himself again that there were no firearms in the vicinity. "Look, I don't see a better way out, so unless you want to starve to death in here or have some secret tunnelling tool that I don't know about, just let me climb on your damn shoulders."

Booth's mouth fell open at his outburst and Hodgins did his best to resist the duck-and-cover urge that had overcome him. After a few moments of tense silence, Booth dropped to his knees with a resigned sigh, "Fine. But if you tell anyone about this, I will shoot you."

Not doubting him for a moment, Hodgins hurried to clamber onto his back before he changed his mind. Booth groaned as he sat astride his shoulders, his legs dangling down in front of him and his hands holding his head for balance. "If you tell _any_ one..." he threatened again, not enjoying the current situation.

"My lips are sealed," the entomologist said quickly. "Now let me open the window."

Sighing, Booth slowly got to his feet, wincing as Hodgins' panicked fingers dug in to his scalp as though that would prevent him from falling. Looking and feeling a lot like a circus act, they teetered over to the window, which, to their mutual relief, opened easily.

Giving a short whoop of success, Hodgins leaned to climb out, instructing Booth, "Go forward some more. Forward." This instruction was accompanied by a prompting pelvic moment and it took all of Booth's self control not to drop him or vomit. Or both. Closing his eyes, he took another step forward, his nose now inches from the wall in front of him.

Since he had now gained the required leverage, Hodgins wasted no time in hoisting himself up and through the window. On turning round, he was mildly surprised to see Booth holding his bloody nose, and quickly realised that he had accidentally slammed his head into the wall as he had pulled himself up. Registering Booth's infuriated glare, he pointed to side of the house and stammered, "I'm just going to go let you out."

Hurrying away before the agent could reply, he pushed open the front door and wove his way through the house to the door to the basement. Not finding a key, a grin spread across Hodgins' face at the thought of what would follow. Admittedly, his brief foray out in the field had included being taken captive and being locked in the basement, as well as inflicting numerous injuries on the FBI agent who was there, in theory, to protect him, but this more than compensated.

Smiling broadly, he yelled, "Stand back!" before bringing his foot up to meet the lock of the basement door. It splintered under his foot and swung open, and Hodgins resisted the urge to do a triumphant victory dance.

Despite the many misfortunes of the day, he'd finally stumbled upon his own pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He could now happily spend his days poring over particulates and slime in the lab, safe in the knowledge that he, Jack Hodgins, had gone out to do fieldwork with the FBI and had kicked down a door.


End file.
